Page:The Blind Bow-Boy (IA blindbowboy00vanv).pdf/126

 stand why life was so cruel? Did they all comprehend the jest of the cruelty? The evening was almost a replica of his first evening in his own apartment. Drains asked what he would have for dinner. . . and gave him chops, etc. Again he went early to bed with books and magazines which he did not read. He could not tolerate this waiting. He, who had been patient all his life, was becoming impatient. He lifted the receiver from the hook and put it back again. She had asked him, he forced himself to remember, not to telephone. Drains departed for the night. The driving rain was still beating against the window-panes. The lightning flashed occasionally and there were heavy crashes of thunder. Harold shuddered. How lonely he was! He who had been alone so much formerly, now could not suffer being alone. His circumstances had been so different then. Now he felt that the world was against him, had separated him from the one person he wanted to see. His heart almost stopped beating when the telephone bell tinkled. It was Paul. Harold's voice registered his disappointment. Yes, he had called. No, nothing in particular. Yes, he would drop in tomorrow.

What are we going to do? Harold asked desperately.

Anything you like. We'll decide when you arrive.

Then, quite suddenly, after the naïve manner of